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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23617630">Caen me a'baethe?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dooba/pseuds/YesBucky'>YesBucky (Dooba)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Don't touch Roach, Elder language, First Kiss, Fluff, Geralt's a mood, M/M, My first Geraskier, Pining, Softness</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 17:00:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,222</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23617630</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dooba/pseuds/YesBucky</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaskier’s not sure how long he’s loved Geralt. Maybe there isn’t even a real beginning to pinpoint. Maybe it’s always been there.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>228</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Caen me a'baethe?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Look at that, I wrote a short story. Thank you Babybuckyboy (buckysthighs134 on Ao3) for the inspiration to write this fic and thank you for reading it. I didn't even know this was a ship until I met you.</p><p>I present to you: Something Softe on this Sunday to tide you over during quarantine.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaskier’s not sure how long he’s loved Geralt. Maybe there isn’t even a real beginning to pinpoint. Maybe it’s always been there.</p><p>To outsiders, Geralt’s moody, difficult to deal with. Jaskier knows better though. Knows how quiet and pliant the Witcher can get when Jaskier draws him a bath after a long and taxing day, filled with fights - be it with monsters or men. Jaskier sees how Geralt’s eyes soften, how the tight lines of his shoulders ease when he patches up Geralt’s wounds, when he washes his back.</p><p>Geralt can put up a harsh front, but he will sit down so that Jaskier can ease the tangles out of the Witcher’s long white hair. And if Jaskier spends longer than necessary to finish, well, that’s something only he knows.</p><p>Jaskier knows a little of what Geralt’s been through from early childhood. Geralt’s told him bits - off handed almost, little snippets thrown in during casual conversations. Mentions of experiments, unspeakable pain. You survived or you died - there was no in between. The first time Geralt spoke about it, casual as if it was no big deal, it made Jaskier’s blood chill in his veins. He’d started doing a little research then to figure out just what kind of trials the young Witcher boys were being put through.</p><p>A lot of the scrolls he was able to find were written in Elder. But Jaskier is nothing if not a quick learner, and he was soon able to piece together what he already knew of the language with the new bits he picked up to be able to decipher the scrolls.</p><p>Sometimes he wishes he didn’t know what he learned. About the Trial of the Grasses. And the other trials that Geralt obviously’d been put through to make him the hunter he is today.</p><p>The bard had been unable to hide his love for the Witcher for a while after he learned the full extent of those tribulations, needing to comfort the man for past hurts. He would touch Geralt more often than usual, and more than once he woke up cuddled into Geralt’s side instead of his own side of the bed. Geralt, for his part, would send him one of those fond, amused looks that would make Jaskier positively melt, but didn’t comment on it.</p><p>Jaskier mulls over these moments when he thinks Geralt’s not watching him. Wonders often how he can let Geralt know just how deep his love goes. Knows he might never be able to let it show, not even on difficult days, when Geralt’s shoulders are high and all Jaskier wants to do is comfort him and put him at ease.</p><p>Today is such a day. Jaskier stayed in the village as Geralt slayed the monster of the week, collecting stories to sing about and gauging people’s reactions to the Witcher’s reputation.</p><p>The atmosphere is vibrant and light - the weather is good and the harvest will be plentiful. But then Geralt comes back from his hunt, the dead monster outside the inn, and asks for his pay and a bed for the night.</p><p>The room suddenly goes cold. The hushed conversation quiets completely, and Jaskier looks up from his writing, alarmed, eyes flitting from Geralt to the innkeeper.</p><p>Geralt’s unmoving as always, but Jaskier knows him. Sees the rigid line of his back, the way his sword arm is held out slightly, poised to take out his weapon to fight if he needs to.</p><p>The innkeeper is a head smaller than Jaskier but no less threatening because of it, his dark eyes unmoving as he stares Geralt down.</p><p>“There’s no place here for mutants like you,” the innkeeper growls. He throws the coins onto the bar, not even taking the trouble to hand them to the Witcher.</p><p>Geralt fists the bag of coin in his left hand and for a moment Jaskier thinks he’s going to throw it back into the innkeepers face.</p><p>Don’t do that, he thinks. He’d been counting on that money. Geralt needs new clothes and it might be nice to buy some bread and cheese for on the road.</p><p>Geralt doesn’t move though, and the silence stretches. People in the inn are looking on, poised for a brawl. Jaskier moves slowly so as not to draw attention and shifts his lute so he can protect it should things go awry.</p><p>“Well,” the bard starts, trying for a light tone. “I’m sure we can work something-”</p><p>“Fine,” Geralt growls, interrupting Jaskier’s attempt at peacekeeping. He gives the innkeeper one final glare, and to Jaskier’s immense satisfaction, the innkeeper wilts a little.</p><p>Geralt turns away, gaze shifting to the hostile patrons. He stalks through them, demanding a path with his body, shoving his shoulder none too gently into a man’s who refuses to step aside.</p><p>He doesn’t even look back at Jaskier. Trusts that the bard will follow him. And Jaskier follows. He always does.</p><p>They set foot down the road, needing to put as much distance between them and the village as possible before nightfall. They might decide to come for them after all. It wouldn’t be the first time that happened. Geralt’s in a mood as he stalks down the road with Roach by his side, but who wouldn’t be. He’s smelling from his fight with the monster, his shift blood-soaked, his hair a gory mess.</p><p>He walks next to Jaskier, pensive and brooding, but not unkind toward the bard.</p><p>“Shame we couldn’t stay,” Jaskier says to fill the silence. “Would’ve loved to draw you a bath. Wash your hair. I found soap root on that farmer’s market I visited last week. I bet it smells nice on you.”</p><p>“Hmm,” Geralt hums in his characteristic low, grating voice. It’s not dismissive. Jaskier’s learned a long time ago that it’s Geralt’s way of letting Jaskier know he’s listening. Geralt just doesn’t like talking very much.</p><p>Jaskier thinks words become moot when you’ve been through the worst pain imaginable. Several times. That’s okay though. He’s got enough words for the both of them.</p><p>So he talks to Geralt, about how he spent the afternoon with the people in the inn, how a farmer’s daughter flirted with him, and how Geralt’s reputation was starting to turn in his favor.</p><p>He winces when he realizes what he’s saying. Turning reputation or not, they were chased away and only barely escaped violence. Geralt just looks at him askance, a half-smile dancing in his eyes, and then takes a sudden turn into the trees on the right side of the road. Roach follows like she knows this was about to happen. Jaskier needs a few more steps to realize he’s now alone on the darkening road.</p><p>“Geralt?” Jaskier asks. Dusk has set in and Jaskier’s vision is not as good in the dark as Geralt’s. To Jaskier’s eyes, Geralt just evaporated in the dark.</p><p>“Here,” Geralt says. It’s just the second sound the Witcher has made since he came back from his hunt.</p><p>Jaskier follows the sound of Geralt’s voice, stumbling over branches and getting whacked in the face by a twig. He makes an offended sound but stumbles on, cradling his lute in the protective circle of his arms. Then suddenly, they’re in a clearing, and even Jaskier can now hear the small stream that trickles nearby.</p><p>“We’re sleeping here?” Jaskier asks, resigned. He would’ve loved a real bed. Would’ve loved crawling as close to Geralt as possible without Geralt actually noticing it, inhaling the scent of his freshly washed skin and hair.</p><p>Geralt doesn’t dignify Jaskier’s obvious question with an answer, just sets to work on unsaddling Roach.</p><p>“Why don’t you let me do that,” Jaskier offers. The daylight is disappearing quickly. “I can’t see enough to find wood for a fire, anyway.”</p><p>“Don’t touch Roach,” Geralt warns.</p><p>Jaskier sighs. “Come on, now, Geralt. I’m sure we’ve known each other long enough for me to help you out?”</p><p>Geralt’s catlike eyes land on Jaskier and for a moment the bard swears they are luminiscient in the dark. “Don’t,” Geralt grates again.</p><p>He makes quick work of unsaddling Roach, then stalks off into the dark to get wood for the fire.</p><p>“He loves you so clearly,” Jaskier muses as he looks into the direction where Geralt disappeared. He can’t even hear the Witcher move around in the undergrowth. “The way he pets you, always has a kind word for you. I wish he would do the same to me.”</p><p>Roach neighs softly, as if protesting.</p><p>“I know, I know, I can’t ask for it.”</p><p>Jaskier sighs and sets to work on setting up a camp, unrolling their sleeping mats and blankets and getting out the tinder box to create a fire. Het fills their water bottles in the stream and fills two pots of water; one for Roach and one to heat by the fire. Maybe if Geralt’s in a nice mood, he’ll allow Jaskier to wash his face at least. Maybe the back of his neck too. His hands…</p><p>The dark makes it so much easier to daydream.</p><p>Geralt’s gone longer than usual, and Jaskier fills the time softly picking on his lute, creating a mournful song about unrequited love. He should write that down, he thinks. Might be something in there worth keeping.</p><p>He nearly screams when Geralt’s suddenly back at his side, wood in one arm, a dead hare in the other.</p><p>“Warn a man, will you,” Jaskier pants, clutching his chest. “I nearly died.”</p><p>“You’re fine,” Geralt says, unapologetic and unimpressed.</p><p>He builds a fire quickly and efficiently, then sets to work skinning the hare. Jaskier looks on, resolves once again he will get Geralt to teach him how to do that someday, and then promptly gets distracted looking at Geralt’s face as it’s lit by the fire.</p><p>His hair glows almost golden in the light of the flames. His catlike eyes are luminescent, focused uncannily on what his hands are doing. He’s rolled up the sleeves of his shift, muscles playing under the skin of his strong forearms as he works. Jaskier’s staring and he only notices he’s doing so as Geralt stills. When Jaskier looks up, he catches Geralt looking at him.</p><p>Jaskier clears his throat, damns his desire and makes a show of rummaging through their bag for some herbs to season the meat with.</p><p>He’s distracted immediately from his task when Geralt sets back to work, big hands making quick work of the skinning, his knife moving in efficient, short stabs.</p><p>Geralt’s face is relaxed as he works, the tight lines around his mouth gone. His lips look so kissable it’s physically painful to look at, Jaskier thinks.</p><p>"Caen me a'baethe?" Jaskier asks, so softly he’s sure Geralt won’t hear. And even if he does, Geralt doesn’t speak Elder so it doesn’t matter anyway that Jaskier’s asking for a kiss he’ll never get.</p><p>Geralt doesn’t look up. He doesn’t even pause in his movements. “Aefder.”</p><p>Jaskier freezes. Geralt doesn’t react, just finishes skinning and disemboweling the hare so he can impale it on a stick and spitroast it over the fire.</p><p>Jaskier, the rambler, is for once lost for words.</p><p>He watches, speechless, as Geralt walks down to the stream to wash his face and hands, and soak his sodden shift in the clear water. He’s not speaking when Geralt comes back, water still dripping off his chin onto his bare chest, to get his spare shift from the saddle back and pull it over his head, hiding all that lovely skin from view again.</p><p>Jaskier’s silent when Geralt sits down near the fire again and drinks from his wine bag.</p><p>He’s quiet even through their meal, stealing glances at Geralt and marveling at how undisturbed the Witcher seems to be. He wasn’t wrong though. He’s quite sure he heard Geralt say ‘later’ in Elder. Which means he heard Jaskier right and is planning on fulfilling the request.</p><p>Jaskier eats and broods, and frets and worries, and is still lost for words when Geralt gets up after he’s done eating to wash his hands in the stream.</p><p>When Geralt comes back, he doesn’t sit down across from Jaskier, at the other side of the fire. He sits down next to him. “Here,” he says. He reaches for Jaskier’s hand and proceeds to clean the remnants of their meal away with a rag he apparently just soaked in the stream.</p><p>Jaskier tries and fails to create words in any of the languages he knows when Geralt picks a clean corner of the cloth and wipes the corner of Jaskier’s mouth clean.</p><p>“Yeá, que a'baethe?” he asks, so quietly Jaskier has to strain to hear him. So, that kiss? Indeed.</p><p>Jaskier takes a startled breath and exhales in a rush when Geralt’s big, big hand comes up to cup the back of his head. The slayer who can crush a skull with those hands is now holding Jaskier like he’s breakable and precious.</p><p>“Geralt,” Jaskier stutters.</p><p>“Hmm,” Geralt hums. His yellow eyes narrow as he searches the bard’s face. Then he leans in and presses his lips to Jaskier’s in that long-awaited kiss.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>Here's <a href="https://twitter.com/BuckyBabyboy/status/1248197607245123584">the tweet</a> that inspired me to write it. <br/>
Come find me on <a href="https://twitter.com/DoobaWrites">Twitter</a>, I love talking to you!<br/>
Kudos are gold, comments are life &lt;3 Thank you for reading!</p>
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